Invisible to him
by glaelia
Summary: Fleshed out version of Invisible. ANGST. Rated R for language, rape, and suicidal themes. KB/OW. Please R+R. ta. glae x *what do we percieve?See?Hear?Feel?Am I me?You?Him?Her?Who am I?What am I?I don't know. Do you? No?* read + you may find out! ;) g xxx
1. One Instantly Forgotten

Invisible to him  - by glaelia 

**fleshed out version of Invisible **

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters…  I don't own anything much actually… well a car, but that costs too much… ho hum, yes, everything you recognise is JKR's… go her!! Remember this disclaimer for the rest of the story, cos I really can't be arsed to type it out again…..

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RE: reviews 

I just got the BESTEST review from XOX on Invisible. You have no idea how happy that made me!! I'm sitting here at work with a big stupid grin on my face and getting weird looks… thank you sweetie!! x x x I have to keep us my enigmatic oddness after all…… ;)

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ONE – INSTANTLY FORGOTTEN 

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**You're either dipping your toe** **Or you're drowning**

**_Is it better never to start_**

**_Than to bear the pain_**__

**_Of having to stop_**

****

**_Halfway to the bottom_**

**_Instantly forgotten_**

****

**_I never thought it would come_**

**_So easy_**

**_I never thought it would go _**

**_so quickly_**

**_is it safer never to love_**

**_than to risk your heart _**

**_having to lose_**

****

**_halfway to the bottom_**

**_instantly forgotten_**

**_I don't know_**

**_Which way to go_**

****

**_Is it wiser never to speak _**

**_Than to raise your voice_**

**_And never be heard_**

****

****

**_Halfway to the Bottom – Aqualung_**__

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I cry. I cry while I still can. It hurts. He knows it hurts, but he doesn't stop. He smiles. I crouch, covering my face, covering the tears that continue to fall. He mustn't see. Mustn't know how weak I am. Finally it's over; he leaves. Mustn't shout, mustn't wail. He'll come back if he hears me. He'll do it again. I curl up, scared, alone. I tremble, unable to sleep, unable to think. Nothingness.

**

I know I'm nearly late. But I almost don't care. Almost. If I miss the train I'll have to go back. I don't want to go back, can't. With a last effort, I push the trolley through the crowds and towards the barrier. One last effort, one last effort and I can relax. Away from the Muggle world, I'll be safe. Then I'm through. The steam from the express is clouding the platform, shapes and forms arise from the darkness, moving about, carrying trunks, shouting. I smile. Home.

I find an empty carriage and settle myself in the corner by the window, it's quiet here, peaceful. I risk a small smile. Resting my head against the window is almost comfortable, until the bruise on my cheek comes into contact with the gold glass. I lift the hood of my cloak, hiding my face, pulling it down low. The darkness is comforting. The dark and the warmth and the gentle motion of the express as it starts on the northwards journey gently lull me to sleep.

**A fist. An iron fist and a cold laugh. It hurts so much. I can hear myself scream, feel myself falling… falling…**

"Wake up!" he's shouting.

I know it was a dream then, shaking I sit up. I've landed on the floor. There are hands on me, on my shoulders, shaking me. I flinch away and they're removed. I'm crying, I can feel the tears streaming down my face.

"It's okay," he whispers, tentatively stroking a hand down my back. He doesn't realise. He doesn't know. It's not okay.

"It was a bad dream," I whisper. "A nightmare. I'm fine." I struggle to stand and the hood falls from my face, he catches me as I stumble. 

"Katie?" he whispers. "What's happened to you?" 

I can see the sorrow in his face, the pity. It isn't comforting. It makes me angry. He can see. He can see how weak I am.

"Nothing," I hiss. "I'm just fine." **_Oh god, tell him the truth. He'll help. He'll make it better_**_. _Ha. No. It's better than no one knows. I brush away his hands and sit back down. He sits beside me, close, too close; I can feel the heat of his skin. 

"What happened?" his hand is creeping across my lap; despite myself I reach for him, finding comfort in the warmth of those smooth hands. I cling to him, seeking the warmth, seeking the understanding. He lets me. Lets me sit, doesn't force me to speak. But eventually it comes tumbling out. 

"My brother…" I whisper. I wipe my eyes, but the tears don't come, they're long since spent.

"He did this to you? Your brother?" he asks, his blue eyes wide, his fingers gently stroking my face, the bruise. I nod quietly, unable to offer anymore. "Did he…" he starts. I know what's coming.

"No," I manage. "No, he didn't do anything else. He just hits me,"

"What about your parents?" he whispers to me as he clutches my hand tightly and runs his other hand through his dark hair.

"I… my brother brought me up…" I manage.

 He doesn't ask, the look on his face says it all. He's never asked, and now he's wondering why. Why he hasn't asked me after seven years of working together, living together, playing Quidditch together. He never asked. **_I was invisible to him._**Somehow the bruise has ridden me of the transparency. **_Now he sees. Now I'm not invisible_**. He can't stop looking at me now. Somewhere, deep down, I feel pleased. Grateful. I'm not invisible anymore. Then I feel ashamed. Pity, that's all he feels. Pity. And shame. Nothing else. Nothing. I snatch my hand away.

"What?" he asks, worry reaching those blue eyes. "What did I say?"

I'm ignoring him, gazing out the window again.

**_Halfway to the bottom_**

**_Instantly forgotten_**

****

**_I never thought it would come_**

**_So easy_**

**_I never thought it would go _**

**_so quickly_**

**_is it safer never to love_**

**_than to risk your heart _**

**_having to lose_**__

Yes, it's safer never to love. Why, when you know it will end in tears? One way or the other. All relationships end don't they… even if it's forced by death. Why begin something for it to end? I ignore his voice - ignore those worried eyes. I've loved him for seven years. But no, I don't want his pity, his shame. **_Instantly forgotten_**_._ I'm invisible to him now.

"Go away Oliver," I hiss under my breath.

"But…" he starts, clearly confused. **_Instantly forgotten_**

"Go AWAY!" I say, louder, more forceful.

He stands up to leave. I'm safe now. He's gone. **_It's safer never to love, than to risk_**_ **your heart.**_

****

**_Instantly forgotten._**

****

**_Invisible to him._**


	2. Two Just for a moment

Two -  Just for a moment 

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**_just for a moment_**

**_everything I treasured was gone_**

**_just for a moment_**

**_the world was full of pain_**

****

**_oh how I love you_**

****

**_just for a moment_**

**_I faced my life alone_**

**_just for a moment_**

**_my luck had finally run out_**

****

**_oh how I love you_**

****

**_the same thing that blew us together_**

**_might blow us apart_**

**_so keep a piece of me precious_**

**_and close to your heart_**

****

**_just for a moment_**

**_all of my nightmares came true_**

**_just for a moment_**

**_my heart was broken in two_**

**_oh how I need you_**

**_oh how I miss you_**

**_oh how I love you_**

****

Just for a Moment – Aqualung 

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He gazes at me as I leave the train. I can feel his eyes on me. He was upset; I could see that. He didn't know what he had done wrong. What had he done wrong? I don't know. He got too close, cared too much. **_Just for a moment, everything I treasured was gone_**_. _I watch as he turns, climbs into a carriage and I feel like he's taking my heart with him, wrenching it away from me. 

My silent sobs draw strange looks from the girls I join in the carriage to the castle. They can't understand, they don't speak to me. All I want is him, and I've turned him away. Forced him away.**_ Oh how I need you, oh how I miss you, oh how I love you._**I whisper to myself, more strange looks. I shake my head as I leave the carriage and climb the cold stone stairs of the castle. Surrounded by people - and yet all alone. 

**Just for a moment I faced my life alone, just for a moment all of my nightmares came true, just for a moment my heart was broken in two.**

I follow the crowd to the great hall, my heart falling, dry sobs leaving now. Leaving emptiness in their wake. **_Just for a moment the world was full of pain. _**There's nothing there anymore. I can't feel anything. I take my seat at the Gryffindor table, watching as the new first years are sorted, listening as the new head boy and girl are called out, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff. The food appears and I gaze at it listlessly, all around me people are chattering. Catching up on each other's summers. Do they notice me? No. Do they ask me about my summer? No. I allow myself a little smile then. What would I say if they did? **_Yes, thank you. I had a great time. My brother beat the fucking crap out of me. I spent two weeks in hospital after he threw me down the stairs. I broke my arm twice in the same place, and I don't have an inch of my body not covered in bruises. You?_**A bigger smile now. I'm feeling sorry for myself, I know. But it feels good; it feels… it's better than nothing at all. I raise my head a little as I hear Harry talking about his holiday. He's telling his friend Hermione that the Dursleys took him on holiday. I can hear him whispering that Snuffles joined them. Snuffles? I shook my head slightly. Then I see him, directly opposite me. Why didn't I notice before? He's gazing at me. He hasn't touched his food, hasn't joined in the noisy chatter around us. **_Oh how I love you _**I couldn't help myself. Those blue eyes burned into me, questioning, pleading. **_He wants to help. Don't push him away_**_. _But he can't! He can't help! No one can! **_But maybe… maybe. _**I can see my hand stretching across the table, see it passing the jug of pumpkin juice, and yet I feel strangely disconnected. I watch as he reaches out and grasps my hand firmly, protectively. **_It's not pity; it's sorrow, anger, and fear._**__

**_Oh how I miss you, Oh how I need you, Oh how I love you. _**

I find myself smiling gently and watch as he smiles back, gripping my hand tighter.

"Eat," he murmurs. 

I shake my head. Not now. Not yet. I feel sick, nauseous, overcome. I want to leave the noise and the rabble, the stink of food and happiness. I wrestle my hand from his grasp and he looks anxious, wondering what he's done wrong. But I smile gently and incline my head as I stand up, asking him to follow. 

He reaches for me as we leave the great hall, grabbing my hand, pulling me close. I feel myself enveloped in a comforting hug. I can smell him. Feel him. Touch him. So close. Warmth. Understanding. He holds me tightly as the tears come, freed at last. I know I'm safe; he doesn't pity me. 

"I love you," he whispers.

He loves me. 

**Oh how I love you**

He doesn't need me to say it back. Hopefully he knows. Hopefully he understands. I love him with all my heart. I always have. He's what I need now, what I've always needed. I clutch him to me, grasping handfuls of his jumper. He laughs slightly. 

"It's okay," he whispers. "You'll be fine now. I'll look after you. Always," he murmurs, gazing at me. Those blue eyes, so blue. How could I have mistaken pity… for love? I allow him to lead me to the Gryffindor common room, he's clutching my hand tightly and I'm still grasping his jumper with one hand. Tears continue to stream down my face. He's gentle. Comforting. Kind. I feel safe now. We reach the common room and he pulls me over to a chair by the fire. He sits and pulls me into his lap. It feels silly and I giggle suddenly. He frowns, and then pulls me closer, crushing him to me in a hug. I wince slightly in pain. But it's good pain - I can feel it. I feel alive. I can feel him stroking my long blonde hair, he rests his cheek on the top of my head and I bury my face in his jumper, still clutching handfuls of it. Warmth. Warmth from the fire. Warmth from Oliver. Understanding. I don't need to tell him anymore. He knows enough. He understands. He wants to help. And if he can't help, he wants to comfort.

I can hear his heart beating slowly, powerfully. He's drifting off to sleep, still clutching me tightly. The others have already been back to the common room and drifted off to bed. We haven't moved from the chair, no one questioned us. I'm calm now, sleepy even. Will I sleep without nightmares? My hand comes to rest over his heart. I can feel the low, rhythmic pounding. I can feel his life coursing through his body.

 "**_The same thing that blew us together might blow us apart. So keep a piece of me precious and close to your heart_**," I whisper to his jumper. I jump slightly as his hand lifts and comes to rest over my own. I had thought he was asleep. I feel him stir and kiss the top of my head softly.

"I can't," he whispers.

I frown and I'm sure he notices as he laughs softly, the sound rumbling against the side of my face.

"I can't…" he starts again, "because you have my heart." 

'**_Oh how I need you, Oh how I love you_**_,' _I whisper to myself, settling myself once more against his warm body. Safe in his comfort, safe in his arms. 


	3. Three Nowhere

**Three – Nowhere**

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Nowhere 

****

**_so_**

**_is it over_**

**_time _**

**_could have told you_**

**_piece_**

**_by piece_**

**_till the stillness_**

**_echoing_**

****

**_no-one_**

**_nothing_**

**_nothing_**

**_no-one_**

**_could make me feel_**

**_the way I'm feeling_**

**_no-one_**

****

**_hands_**

**_let me hold you_**

**_eyes_**

**_let me see your face_**

**_smile again_**

**_as the world_**

**_goes tumbling_**

****

**_there is _**

**_nowhere_**

**_I would rather spend_**

**_these lazy crazy days_**

**_than here_**

**_nowhere_**

****

****

Nowhere – Aqualung 

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I can feel his heart beating. Feel his chest rising with every breath. I've never felt happier. Never felt stronger. Never felt safer. Does he realise how his strong arms make me feel? That the warmth of his breath against my neck makes me feel calm? That the beating of his heart reminds me that I'm alive? Will he ever realise? Will he ever know? 

_Yes, if I tell him.****_

"I love you," I whisper to his chest. We're still curled up in the chair, though the fire has died down and the new sun is rising. I slept without nightmares, for the first time in weeks, months, and years. "I love you," I whisper again. "Thank you."

 "_There is nowhere I would rather spend these lazy, crazy days than here, with you_, he murmurs sleepily. 

I smile. Comforted. 

"I'm going to get dressed," I whisper, brushing his lips gently with the chastest of kisses. He opens one eye warily, smiling slightly. 

"What a beautiful sight to wake to," he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke my face gently. He frowns suddenly as his fingertips rest on the bruise on my cheek. "You should go to Madam Pomfrey," he continues. "And tell Dumbledore."

I sigh. I shake my head.

"I thought you understood," I whisper. "I can't tell them. I thought you realised," I continue, pushing myself away from him, going to rise from the chair. 

"No," he insists, reaching out and grasping my wrist. "I do," he whispers, his eyes wide with fear. "I do understand. I promise. But… but… Okay!" he almost laughs, but his eyes are cold. "Don't tell Dumbledore, but please, at least have Pomfrey check you over. Please?" he whispers, eyes pleading.

I nod slowly. _Oh how I love you_. "Later," I mumble. "Let me get dressed."

He nods, loosens his grip, allowing me to leave. Not before pulling me close though, kissing my forehead gently and whispering to me.

 _"Hands let me hold you. Eyes let me see your face smile again. As the world goes tumbling, around us."_

I smile ever so gently. "I think I really love you Oliver Wood."

"Of course," he smiles, sitting back in the chair and raising one eyebrow slightly, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. 

I laugh. I actually laugh. How long has it been since I last laughed? I don't remember. All I know is that no one, nothing, nothing, no one, could make me feel the way I'm feeling. No one but Oliver Wood.

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Madam Pomfrey is looking at me, questioning me. I don't hang my head; I'm not ashamed. 

"What happened Katie?" she asks as she checks me over, quietly mending a broken rib I didn't even know I had. She refuses to heal the bruises, somehow I don't think it's because she can't. She wants someone to know. Wants me to tell.

"What happened Katie?" she's asking again, her pale blue eyes sombre and her mouth tight. Pity. I feel myself growl. 

"Nothing," I hiss, trying to climb down off the bed. 

"All right! All right!" she cries, catching me as I stumble, my head feels strangely light. "We'll put it down as a Quidditch accident. It's not like that's never happened before, is it?"

She's smiling now and I relax slightly. But the smile hasn't reached her eyes, she's worried, confused. I don't feel any pain as she prods and pokes her way around my body, mending chipped bones, discovering new bruises. I feel numb. Cold. Confused. I can't think. Don't. There's nothing to think about.

I hear a voice outside the door as she finishes, hands me my robes.

"Can I come in?"

Oliver. Something to think about.

"Mr Wood. Miss Bell is weary, she needs rest and plenty of food. I trust you'll look after her?"

"Of course!" he smiles eagerly, walking forwards and helping me to climb down off the bed, supporting me. For a moment I feel warm, touched. Then the nothing returns. I sigh.

"Come on," he whispers. "Let's get you something to eat."

* * 

The Great Hall is quiet, it's a sunny day and the students have rushed outside. The air in here is cool, not dank, but light, breezy. Oliver sits me at the Gryffindor table and starts to place food on my golden plate. Chicken. Potatoes. Broccoli. And a glass of pumpkin juice. I gaze at the plate. Am I hungry? I'm not sure, I feel so empty, so hollow. I can't tell. I can't tell if I'm hungry or not. The strangest sensation is rippling through my body. I feel numb. Disconnected. Like my head is hovering, no body attached to it. I can see my hands; see them grasp the knife and fork, cut up the chicken, watch as it travels to my mouth. But I can't feel it, can't taste it.

I place the fork down, almost alarmed at the feeling that has come over me. I reach out my hand to touch Oliver's sleeve, unconsciously he reaches out and grasps my hand, still talking to Lee Jordan who's sitting close to us. 

_Hands, let me hold you._

I can't feel him. I can see my hand, see it grasping his smooth fingers tightly. I turn my head to the side slightly, concentrating. I can't feel it. Nothing. No one. 

Eyes, let me see your face 

I gaze at him. At his dark hair as those blue eyes twinkling as he laughs. I wonder if he realises how beautiful he is? How those other girls are glaring at me as he grasps my hand? He laughs again, something George Weasley said. I can't hear it. My ears are ringing. I feel strange still. Disconnected. Oliver's jaw is moving as he speaks, his thumb is moving in soft circles, caressing my hand. He knows I'm watching, knows I'm there. He smiles again as he squeezes my hand.

Smile again 

I blink. Oliver's face is swimming in and out of focus. He's smiling, smiling and laughing. He knows I'm there. But he doesn't see. Doesn't see me falling. 

As the world goes tumbling 

Falling. I shudder, a wave of cold sweeps over me and I grasp his hand tightly. It doesn't stop me falling. I slip backwards off the bench. The world tumbles as I fall, suddenly sped up. Noise comes back to me. Shouts and screams. Oliver's yelling, scared, panicked. Angelina screams somewhere, I recognise her voice. But I can't feel anything. Nothing. There's nothing there. Then, as I slide into the warm blackness, I feel it. A gently hand, squeezing mine, grasping, begging, pleading. Hold on.

_hands_

_let me hold you_

_eyes_

_let me see your face_

_smile again_

_as the world_

_goes tumbling_

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_Wow! Go me! I figured out html AND added more to the third chapter :D :D _

_I cannot thank XOX enough, babe, you said your face cracked…. Seriously my dimples hurt soooooooo much from smiling! Thank you thank you! you made my day, twice! Invisible was a little ficlet I wrote to the song, halfway to the bottom, by aqualung. I guess its how I was feeling one day. Invisible to him however, is simply a fleshed out version of Invisible. I.e. everything's explained more, more Oliver, more Katie, more tears, more songs! I'm not adding anything else to Invisible. It's done. It's all rounded up. Invisible to him however… now that has a long way to go before it's finished… and my evil little self is determined not to reveal too much more until she's got a few more reviews. Bwahahaha!! Wowzer! I have a mad fan! One mad fan… but it's a fan all the same!! **Hugs** :D_


	4. Four Gentle

FOUR – GENTLE 

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Have you worked out yet that I am completely in love with Matt Hales from aqualung? The man sings from his soul, he's beautiful. 

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Thanks to XOX for demanding another chapter… otherwise I would have gone to bed hours ago ;)

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GENTLE – AQUALUNG 

**_this is not the time to wonder why_**

**_just let the heart and mind_**

**_be still for just some time_**

**_this is the time for the rest _**

**_just let it go_**

**_you know it's for the best_**

****

**_if you're fragile_**

**_and you're delicate_**

**_take my hand_**

**_but be gentle with me please_**

**_let the river flow_**

**_washing over me_**

**_for a while_**

**_but be gentle with me please_**

****

**_this is not the time to compromise_**

**_if you're feeling it too_**

**_then you've realised _**

**_this is the time for a change_**

**_yes you know it's true_**

**_deep down within you_**

****

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I can hear him. He's pacing about at the end of the bed. He doesn't see. Doesn't see I'm awake. I scrunch my eyes tightly. I don't want to wake up. I want to go back to that warm, peaceful, dreamless sleep. Why wake up? Why try?

"Katie?" he whispers.

_Oliver. That's why._

I open my eyes slowly, feeling the warm light of a new morning playing across my face. The windows are open, the curtains ruffled by the breeze. Oliver. He's leaning over me, quiet, concerned. His brow is knitted. In frustration? Confusion? Fear? Anger? I sigh quietly and close my eyes again.

"No. Katie, you have to wake up," I feel his hand on my arm now and I flinch unconsciously. I look up at him again and his eyes show his fear, his pain, his sadness. What am I doing to this boy, this man? I'm pushing him away. Why? Because I don't trust him? No. Because I do. I trust him, and that is a strange feeling indeed. I love him. A stranger feeling still.  "You fainted," he continues as he sits in the chair by my side. "Dumbledore's been to see you. He's worried. I'm worried. You need to tell him…"

"Have you told them?" I ask, I know my voice is quiet, cold. I can see the pain in his eyes. _He wants to help, let him! _I can't. I can't. I can't let anyone close. Don't you see! Don't you see? I'll only wind up hurting, one way or the other. Or them. Or I'll hurt them, and they'll leave me. _That wasn't your fault. _It was. He said it was. It always is. 

"No," Oliver whispers to me, taking my hand and stroking it gently. "Madam Pomfrey's told him you've got a cold. You're supposed to take it easy till classes start tomorrow. I still think you should tell him though…"

"No." I murmur. "No!" Harsher when I see the determined look in his eyes. "This is my problem, not his, not yours…"

I trail off. He's angry. He tries to control it, but I can see. Doesn't he realise I can tell when someone's angry? Hasn't that crossed his mind?

"I can't let you do this Katie," he sighs. He looks bewildered. Hurt. Angry. He doesn't know what to do, I can see that. He's used to using his fists. Using brute force, on the Quidditch pitch and off. Now what can he do?

"Let me do it my way," I whisper. "Just let it go. You know it's for the best." 

He smiles slightly. His head on one side. Then he leans in and rests a delicate kiss on my forehead. 

"We've got a match. I have to go. I'll come and get you for dinner. Madam Pomfrey said you could come down to the Great Hall to eat. That okay?"

"Okay," I whisper, trying to catch his gaze. He doesn't look at me; his eyes flicker around as he stands up, never resting on my face.

"Bye," he nods, almost curtly, and turns to leave. Oh God, I'm doing it again. I'm pushing him away; I'm not letting him help. Why? Why can't I let him get close?

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Oliver's POV (just to keep you interested! ;) )

Why's she doing this to me?? She's smashing my heart and pulling it out through my mouth. I can't help her. I can't do anything to help. I can't stop him. If she doesn't let me tell Dumbledore then she'll go back there, Christmas, Easter, the summer. And he'll do it again; he'll beat her, and worse. And I won't be able to stop it. Can't. I'm so frustrated! She's lying there in a hospital bed, white, fragile, delicate. She's so weak. So tired. And I can't do anything! Why's she doing this to me? Doesn't she realise how much I love her? How I've loved her for seven years? I didn't think she'd even look at me. And now? What? I'm her protector? Her knight in shining armour? But she won't let me protect her! Won't let me help! And I can't even stay with her, have to go to a stupid Slytherin Quidditch match, I have to go because I'm captain. I don't want to. I want to stay with her. She's so alone, so fragile and alone. How can I help? What can I do?

*          *          *

I can feel my blood boiling, my heart pounding. I barely hear Harry as he asks me what's wrong. I ignore the confused looks from the twins. I'm clenching and unclenching my fists, cutting the skin on my palms with my nails each time. I can feel the rage brewing. No lousy game of Quidditch is going to rid me of this. I want something else. Something different. Something more powerful. She hurts. I want to hurt something. Someone.

*          *          *

I barely notice the gasps from the crowds as I grab the back of his broomstick and pull him to the ground. I can hear Lee screaming over the noise of the crowds, but it mixes with the blood pounding in my ears and I push it away. All I can hear is his sneering voice. _Little mudblood girlfriend gone a bit loony has she?_ He knows he can't beat Harry to the snitch so he distracts me instead, I let in Quaffle after Quaffle, all the while the blood seething in my veins. I can feel a new sort of strength. Anger. Bloodlust. Malfoy's blood. The fear shows on his face as he falls to the ground. He's smaller than me, knows he's no match for me really. Not here. Not on the ground. I grab him by the front of his robes; pull him into a standing position. I don't ask him to repeat himself. I can hear his voice over and over in my head. I'll never forget that sneering voice. Bastard. Before I know what I'm doing I raise my hand and punch him in the face. He gasps and drops to the floor. Dazed. I turn, ready to pick up my broom and go grab a few more Slytherin bastards. But he's sly, he's wily. His father taught him well. He makes a grab for the back of my robes, pulling me down to the ground, knocking the wind from me. And then he's on top of me, hitting me, kicking me, scratching, biting. And I hit back. I'm free at last. The rage is released, and I don't hold back. I feel my fist strike the side of his head again and again until his blows become weaker, more defence now than attack. I find myself back on my feet, kicking, kicking and shouting. Screaming about the injustice of it all. She's in pain. Malfoy's a Slytherin bastard. He should be in pain, he should feel it. Then maybe he would understand, would stop ridiculing her. I don't notice that he's become very still. I can feel my face burning and tears stinging my eyes, but I continue to kick, continue to scream. 

I feel rough hands grabbing at me, coarse voices shouting, faces swimming in and out of view as I try to continue my attack on the smaller boy. They hold me back, hitting, punching, kicking me. I fall to the floor; trying to curl my body, avoid the blows. Is this what it feels like for her? Does she feel anger when he hits her? I don't feel pain. Just unspeakable rage. I want to hit him some more. But there isn't the strength. I roll onto my back, trying to force them away, force myself to stand up. And I'm treated to the interesting sight of a Chaser's bat being forced through the air, aimed directly at my face.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         *         *

Back to Katie's POV ( ;) )

"Why? Merlin! Why did you do that? I knew you were angry, but I didn't realise you had got that bad. And now it's your turn to lie in a hospital bed, bruised and battered. Your victim, Malfoy, lies in a bed at the opposite end of the ward. He looks worse than you. Why did you do that? I told you it wouldn't help to get angry. I have to deal with this. And now you're not here. I need you. I need you and you're unconscious. Madam Pomfrey seems to think the Slytherins will try and finish you off, them or Lucius Malfoy. She's set a guard. Hagrid. He's sitting at the end of your bed, growling if they so much as look in our direction. They're all here, crowded around his bed. Flint was the one who brought in the bat. Harry thinks he'll get expelled. I think you'll get expelled! You stupid thing. Why did you do that? Did you think it would help? To be angry? You need to be **_gentle. To be gentle with me, please. _**

But 

**_This is not the time to wonder why_**

**_Just let the heart and mind_**

**_Be still for just some time_**

**_This is the time for the rest_**

**_Just let it go_**

**_You know it's for the best._**

****

Yes, you must rest. I'm going to leave now, Angelina wants to talk to me, she asked me to meet her in the common room at ten. It's nearly that now. Her owl arrived hours ago, just after they dragged you up here on that stretcher and chased the rest of the team away. Yes. I must go. I love you, you know Oliver Wood? Do you realise how much? It hurts my heart to see you lying here like this. I'll come back, when Angelina and I have talked. I'll come back. Until then, Hagrid will take care of you. He's a good man, you'll come to no more harm whilst he's here."

I bend slightly, wincing at the pain of my mended rib, and place a soft, warm, hopeful kiss against his lips. I almost hope that he'll kiss me back, but he doesn't stir. This hurts my heart far worse than anything before. Everything 'he' said, everything 'he' did… that was nothing compared to this. That was pain… this hurts.

*          *          *

I hurry from the hospital wing, head down, arms folded across my chest. My head is so full of thoughts now. Before there was nothing and now I can barely sort one into it's correct place before the next comes rushing along. The thoughts seem to create a noise in my head, and I rush along the corridors and up the stairs not heading the castle around me. Not noticing the shadow behind me. The soft steps and rustling robes. I don't notice until I feel a hand on my shoulder and scream a silent scream. This, I wasn't expecting. This, I would never have expected. His face leers from the darkness with an evil grin and I back away, terrified. I back straight into a door, straight where he wants me to go. He pushes me into the deserted classroom, and chuckling softly, locks the door behind us. 

**_Yes, you know it's true._**

**_Deep down within you._**

****

Yes, I know it's true. Deep down within me, I know. He's going to hurt me now. He's going to hurt me as much as Oliver hurt Draco, worse. There are things he can do that Oliver would never dream of. I can see it in his eyes; hear it in his ugly voice. I sob, but no sound comes. I'm so terrified I'm numb. I can't feel anything. Just his ugly gaze boring into me from his position in front of the door.

**_I'm fragile and I'm delicate, be gentle with me please._**

From the look in his eyes, I know. I know he's going to be anything but gentle.


	5. Five Everything Changed

FIVE – EVERYTHING CHANGED 

***          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          ***

Aw, please review. Pretty please?? Even if you don't like it!!… well, I'd rather you did… but you know what I mean!!

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

**_magic drifted through the air_**

**_touching everybody there_**

**_you came into my life so small_**

**_altering everything changed_**

****

**_I looked into my crystal ball_**

**_the future wasn't clear at all_**

**_and yesterday was hard enough_**

**_at the top of this precipice_**

****

**_magic settled on the floor_**

**_and there she lived for ever more_**

**_turning minutes into hours and days_**

**_stumbling tumbling on_**

****

**_nothing can be the same as it was_**

**_I know _**

**_I know_**

****

**_Everything Changed – AQUALUNG_**

****

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

Cold. A deep, numbing cold is all I notice at first. My head is pounding and I can feel my body shaking. I raise my head a little. A sharp moan of pain escapes my lips. Pain. I can remember pain, a leering face and a coarse voice. Hands. Hot, sweaty hands. I shudder. I can feel his hands on me, even now, even as I lie here in this dark, cold room. He left me here. All alone. Cold. Numb. Hurt. Alone. It must be late; I can't hear anything. No one's moving about the castle. He just left me. Alone. I raise my hand to wipe away tears that refuse to fall, my face is swollen, my nose and mouth bloody. I realise that my eye is swollen shut. What did he do to me? Beat me black and blue. I cry out again as I try to move, my stomach hurts. Laughing. He was laughing at me, laughing as he kicked, as he punched, as he pinned me to the floor, as he tore my robes away. I shudder again with the cold and gather the tattered robes around me. I'm sitting now, leaning uncomfortably against the wall, watching as the moonlight flitters in patterns across the cold stone floor. He's hurt me. Hurt me like my brother never dared. I raise a hand to my head, shaking, and dizzy. My hair is matted with something sticky, blood? I gaze at my hand, barely seeing, in the moonlight the blood appears as silver, glittering, sparkling, and beautiful. Why did he do this to me? Follow me in the darkness? Lock me into this room, this empty classroom? Why? Why did he kiss me? Pin my hands to my sides as I tried to beat him off? Cast a silencing charm on the room when I tried to scream for help? Not on me, on the room. He wanted to hear me scream. Why? Why did he chase me around the room when I wrenched myself from his grasp, laugh as he watched my frightened face? Why did he grab my by the back of my robes and throw me against the wall? I hit my head. The blood is matting my hair. I was dazed, felt sick. I couldn't push him away, couldn't stop him. He was too strong for me. I can feel his hot breath on me as he laughed, his terrible, hot, stinking breath. It was a game to him, funny, amusing. What was it to me? Terror. Numbing fear. I couldn't stop him. Couldn't hold him off. He ripped my robes as he pulled them off me, tore my shirt from my body. My fingers fold into the shredded fabric of my skirt as I remember. Remember his sweaty hands climbing ever higher, his hot breath on my neck as he whispers to me. What did he say? I don't remember - I was numb. Too scared to scream, too powerless to move. I remember he was slapping my face as he pounded into me. I didn't feel it, him at all. Nothing. No one. Alone. Now I can feel it, him. My thighs are sore. I don't know where my knickers are, he threw them across the room, laughing, always laughing. It was a game; I was a game, a bit of fun. A sharp pain in my abdomen reminds me what he did, what he's done to me. Stolen a part of me I can never get back. And then when he was finished, shuddering, clutching at me as he was covered in sweat and calling my name, pulling my hair. When he was finished, he kicked me. Expecting some reaction, wanting to hear me scream. Instead I had curled up on the floor, my clothes discarded, my face swollen. When he realised I wasn't really there, I was numb, traumatised, he kicked me, kicked and punched me. Then the final indignity, as he pulled up his trousers, rearranged his robes; he stepped over me, left me lying there, and spat on me. Spat and swore. He called me a whore. Then he left, left me lying in the cold and the dark, alone, bruised, and sore. Alone.

*          *          *

I don't know what time it is anymore, what day it is, how long I've been here. Even raising my head a little from my slumped position makes me gag; makes my head whirl and my stomach contract. I know there's nothing to bring up, but it doesn't stop me retching. It hurts, hurts my stomach, my throat, my head. I can't stand. I did try. But I fell back down. I can't raise my voice above a whisper, can't reach the closed door. I don't know where my wand is; it's not in the tattered remains of my robes. I need help, someone, anyone. Have they not noticed I'm gone? Have they not noticed I'm not there? No. I'm invisible to them. Are they not even looking for me? But why would they look for me here? In this deserted classroom? In this deserted corridor? No one ever comes up here. Why would they look for me here? I try and curl up again, dragging the remains of my robe around me. I'm so cold, so numb, and I can feel my body shaking, shivering. Why? Why did he do this to me? Leave me here? Like this? 

Voices. I can hear voices, arguing. Voices, moving along the corridor outside. I shift my position and can see light moving under the door. A torch. There are people out there. I can hear raised voices. Voices, shouting. 

"Why would she be here? All these doors are locked! No one ever comes up here?" a male voice, loud. She? Are they looking for me? I try and shout, try and raise my voice. I can barely move my lips, dry, sore. I can't form the words, though I'm shouting them in my head.

"Dumbledore said to check every room. Locked or otherwise. Every room!" 

A jangling of keys. Scuffling feet.

"But we've checked all nine hundred and eighty-seven rooms in this wing!" 

A pause, silence, the keys stop jangling and the footsteps begin to recede. 

_No, don't leave me. Don't leave me; come back. Please come back._

"No," the second voice started, it was coming back. Coming closer. "If we've checked all the other rooms, we may as well check this one!"

_Thank you. Thank you. _I whisper to myself, closing my eyes in silent prayer. I can hear the keys rattle in the lock - so not only did he leave me here, he locked me in. Bastard. Why? Why? Why did he do this? I close my eyes as the door creaks open, against the light from the torch, against the eyes of these two people.

"Oh Merlin!" I hear one of them whisper. The other rushes into the room, drops the torch as he runs over to me, it rolls under a desk, goes out. I open my eyes again in the familiar darkness. 

"Is she okay?" I hear the voice from the doorway. "Is she… alive?"

"Yes. Quickly, go and get Dumbledore, I'll bring her."

I look up, trying to see my saviour in the darkness. I can't turn my head easily, pain shoots down my back and I screw my eyes up tightly again, murmuring in pain. 

"You'll be all right," he whispers to me as I feel the warm weight of heavy fabric being draped over me, a cloak, his cloak. "I'm going to lift you now, Miss Bell. You'll be okay." 

But I won't be. I know I won't be.**_ Nothing can be the same as it was. _** I can hear the fear in his voice; feel the tremble in his arms as he reaches out to me. I moan in pain again as soft hands clutch under my knees, my back. Suddenly he's lifting me, he's strong. Even with my eyes closed I can feel the room moving, feel my body shaking, feel myself go limp as my mind whirls and the world tumbles. I can hear his voice as if from a long distance. But I can't see. Even though I open my eyes, I can't see. There is only blackness, a dark, sinking blackness. Then quiet, warmth and quiet and I know no more.

*          *          *

No. No. No. Blackness. Bright flashing lights. A laugh, a terrible, harsh laugh. A leering face. Pain. The taste of blood. Hands, pressing me to the floor, pushing my legs apart. Touching me, hurting me. Laughing. No. No. Please. Please, no. He won't stop. I can't make him. Too strong. He's kicking me, kicking me… blackness engulfs me and I'm falling, falling…

"NO!" I scream, eyes snapping open. "No!" I shout again as I sit up quickly in the bed, drawing the covers up around me. Fearfully I take in the room around me, white, linen sheets, an open window, sunlight streaming in. The hospital wing, again. What's happened? Him. He happened. Oh Merlin. Oh God. What he did to me… I stop, sobbing, my face in my hands, shaking, trembling. I don't want to remember, I don't want to know. I can almost feel him touching me, hands prying mine away from my face, forcing me to look up, to look at him. Only it isn't him, it isn't his face, isn't his hands. Madam Pomfrey. 

"Oh God!" I gasp, flinging myself at the poor woman and burying my face in her shoulder. She pauses for a moment, shocked, unnerved, and then she brings her arms around me tightening in a hug as I cling on for dear life. I need her to hold me up, to stop me falling.

"Miss Bell, Katie?" she asks after long minutes. "Calm down, you're safe here. You're safe." She pushes me away, looking at me, her face is white and drawn, her lips pursed. "You're very lucky Miss Bell, had Professor Snape not found you when he did, you might not still be with us. What happened?" she asks, concern flitting across her face as she pushes me back into the pillows and tucks the blankets around me. 

"I…" I begin. How do I tell her? What do I say?

"You were attacked…" she finishes for me. I nod silently, looking down at my hands suddenly, entranced that they are nervously twisting the sheets. 

"Who by?" she asks. I don't look up, don't meet her gaze.

"I… I don't know." I whisper. _WHY? GOD WHY?_ I do know, I know exactly who. I'll never be able to forget his face, his laughing voice, his cold words and sweaty hands. 

"By a student?" Pomfrey is asking, moving around the bed, straightening the covers.

"I… I don't know." I whisper again, not looking at her. _WHAT AM I DOING!!?_ _TELL HER! _NO! I gasp slightly, amazed at myself, at my reaction. I'm ashamed, I don't want her to know, I don't want anyone to know. Who it was, what he did to me. How can I tell them without reliving it? Without feeling it again? Without feeling him again? _No. NO! I can't tell her, anyone. Yesterday was hard enough. I know. I know. Nothing can be… nothing can be the same as it was._

"Dumbledore has cordoned off the school, no one is to enter, no one is to leave. He will find out you know…

It's as if she's reading my thoughts, hearing that little voice in my head. 

"Wizards from the ministry are coming, this is very serious Kathleen."

I look up suddenly and she baulks visibly at the look I know must show on my face. Shock. Fear. Terror.

"No!" I whisper, mouth open, eyes round. "NO!"

"Miss Bell." Pomfrey whispers, moving closer to me, she tries to take my hand but I snatch it away. I don't want her to feel how I tremble. "Whoever did this to you… they… he needs to be caught…" she murmurs knowingly. I gasp quietly, shaking again. "Miss Bell," she continues. "You know what I'm saying, you've been beaten. Yes. And badly. But it isn't difficult to tell that he's hurt you… in… in other ways. Your clothes Miss Bell, your robes were… torn… you have… bruises… oh Miss Bell…" she falters, her voice breaking as she sobs slightly. "It's an evil crime, here and in the Muggle world, one that must not go unpunished. You must tell the Ministry wizards all you can. You must Miss Bell!"

The look on my face stops her I'm sure. I don't know how I feel. I don't want to tell, can't. Can't she see? I'll never get over it if everyone knows! I want to forget, pretend it didn't happen. Can't she see! I don't want to relive it, to see his smirking face look at me._ I can't. I can't. I can't. _

"No!" I shout again, unaware of what I'm doing as I push past her, push my way out of the room. A large figure steps in front of me, Hagrid. "NO!" I shout, pushing past him, running, great tearing pains rising in my chest. Hot, stinging tears streaming down my face. I can see faces as I rush past the office. Concerned. Dumbledore. Angry. Snape. And laughing. Him. _OH GOD! NOT HIM! NOT MY BROTHER!_ He can't come here, he's supposed to stay in the Muggle world, I'm supposed to be safe here. Safe. Not if he's here. I'm not safe anywhere. _NO!_ I can feel myself rooted to the spot, unable to move, hand hovering over the handle of the heavy door. I can't move. Terror. Dumbledore is moving towards me, his kind, gentle face, questioning. Snape, he almost looks fearful. Was it him who carried me? His gentle arms that lifted me up? God NO! He's moving towards me, those blue eyes so like my own, and that blonde hair we share. And yet, I hate him. My flesh and blood, and I hate him. 

"COME TO GLOAT?" I can hear myself scream, body shaking, hands trembling. "COME TO LAUGH?" Dumbledore looks confused. But Snape sees. He looks from me to my brother and back again. I can almost hear the cogs whirring as he stares at me, his black eyes wide. He's remembering the bruise on my cheek, still there under the swelling and the dried blood. He's remembering every time I've come back to school after the holidays with bruises on my arms, barely able to conceal the terror on my face as I cringe away from everyone who tries to touch me. He knows. Suddenly he knows. I don't have to tell him. I don't have to tell anyone. Not anymore. 

"Mr Bell?" Snape asks as he reaches out a hand to my brother. He's stepping towards me, anger in those blue eyes, anger and laughter, he thinks this is funny. All a big joke. A joke to him. Laughing eyes, a coarse voice. Sweaty hands. I shudder violently as the image comes back to me and I close my eyes tightly. 

"Mr Bell?" Snape asks again, more forcefully, a hand reaching out to hold my brother back. 

"No." James answers, swatting the hand away. "I want to see what he's done to her. Finally someone else has realised what a little whore she is…"

Snape pounces as James leers at me, pinning his arms to his sides, dragging him back into the office. For a moment, it's just Dumbledore and me. I watch as realisation crosses his old face. He looks at me, looks to the office where Snape is arguing with James, looks back at me, his mouth open. PITY.

I can't take any more. Can't deal with that. Not from Dumbledore. Not from anyone, not anymore. I've had enough. I run. Run as if Dementors are chasing me. Regardless of the students milling around the halls and my hospital nightdress. I run. Run until the muscles in my legs scream in pain and my chest feels like it will explode if I can't get a proper breath of air. I push aside students and teachers alike, hair flying behind me, bare feet smacking on the cold stone. Then I shove one last set of doors open and there's soft grass under my pounding feet. Soft grass under my feet and bright sun in  my eyes. A cool wind in my hair. I can breathe. Great, gasping, sobbing breathes. And I can run, faster and faster until I think I'll pass out with the speed and the whirling thoughts as the world goes tumbling past. And then another door and another. And cold tiles under my feet. Silence as I stop, absorbed in staring at my hands as they shake. _GOD. GOD. GOD_. Why did they call him? Why did he come? Could this be any worse? I look up for the first time, breath coming in great, rushed gasps. The Quidditch locker rooms. I shake my head quickly. How did I get here? I don't know. Don't care. Blindly I make my way to the showers. Turn on all the taps, heat, turn the heat as high as it will go, the jets as powerful as they can be. I tear the thin nightdress from my body, sobbing, ripping at the material, desperate to remove it. Then I sink, sink to the floor as I feel myself falling. The jets sting my fragile skin, and I watch, entranced, as the water turns a bloody pink. Bruised and bloodied I curl into a ball on the floor, watching as my blood and my walls disappear into the drain. I sob. I cry. I bawl. Here where no one can see me, and no one can hear me, the walls come down. Finally. I cry, I really cry. I shake and shudder and I wail. I don't hold back, I let go and I scream and curse. And then… nothing. I can think no longer, there are no more tears. And I'm left shaking and shivering as the harsh jets pound my body and I stare at the pink water flowing away from me. 

*          *          *

Soft hands, soft hands and a soft voice. The water's gone. They've turned it off. I can't see, can't hear, can't speak. Nothing. No one. Soft hands wrapping soft cloth around me and lifting me, whispering gently. Floating. It feels like I'm floating. And when it stops I recognise the common room, the fire and the chair where Oliver and I slept. I sink into it, grateful for the warmth. Grateful for the comfort. I pull the cloak tighter around me and those soft hands place a blanket over me, a pillow under my head. Comfortable. Tired. Empty. I sleep.

Nothing can be the same as it was.

_Yesterday as hard enough, at the top of this precipice…_

_You came into my life so small, altering, everything changed._


	6. Six Thoughts, and the absence of though...

SIX – thoughts, and the absence of thoughts.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

I know he's there but I'm not listening. Not really. I'm gazing into the fire. Watching as the orange flames lick at a piece of wood, destroying it, turning it black, white, to ash. He's speaking gently, but I'm not listening, studying my hands as they clench the robes I'm wearing. Hermione. It was Hermione who found me in the showers, conjured a stretcher and brought me back to the common room. Hermione who settled me in this comfortable chair and left me to sleep, to dream. Hermione who chased all the students away, told them I'd fallen off my broom, told them to leave me to sleep. Hermione who had gently clothed me in this soft robe that smells of grass and wind and damp wool, and Oliver. It was Oliver's robe. I smile quietly to myself, for someone I've barely spoken to in the five years she's been here she seems to know me very well. And now, now she's sitting beside me on the edge of a table, listening as he whispers gently to me, as Dumbledore whispers gently to me. I can hear him, his deep voice rumbling, he wants me to speak to the ministry wizards. To tell them. I can't. I can't. Doesn't he see? Don't they see? Hermione sees. She stops him, whispers to him. Leave me for now. Perhaps I'm in shock. Need rest. How's Oliver? Still asleep. Still unconscious. Hermione will look after me, make me sleep; make me take Pomfrey's potions. Ward off unwanted questions, and perhaps I'll talk tomorrow, when I've rested. I don't think I'll ever talk again. How can I? There's only emptiness. A great, all-consuming emptiness. And nothing to fill the void. I can't see. Can't hear. Can't feel. I can only smell. The heavy grass-scented, heavy-wool smell of Oliver's robe. Of Oliver. Where is he? How is he? Why isn't he here? why isn't he protecting me? Oliver. My Oliver. Where is he?

I barely notice when they all leave, Dumbledore and Pomfrey and McGonagall and all the ministry wizards, when they all leave the common room. I barely notice as Hermione helps me to my feet, guides me to my dormitory, settles me into my bed and draws the curtains tight around me. No one will know, she assures me as she forces me to drink a potion. Dumbledore won't tell anyone. But he's still determined, determined to find the culprit, to punish him. I don't answer, don't speak, don't hear, don't see. I'm numb. I can't. She leaves me then, leaves me to rest. But I can't. My brain is suddenly filled with an ill-timed desire to do something, anything. I rise from the bed, angrily. Scratching my arms irritably. I want to run, to jump, to scream and shout and wail. But this all-consuming emptiness holds me back. Stops me. Makes me frustrated, I scratch at my arms. Scratch and scratch, not noticing, not seeing, not feeling. I can't see, can't feel. Not until my nails break the surface and I look down. Blood. Blood. I've scratched my arms until I've drawn blood. Great, red lines bleeding, oozing. And stinging. I can feel. I can see and I can feel. A strange rage fills me, starting in my feet and rising until it reaches my chest, my throat, escaping in a stark moan. I can feel. I can see. Blood. It takes a moment of looking around the room until my eyes settle on an unlikely source, and then I smile mischievously. Angelina's goblet. She leaves it by her bed; she always wants a drink in the night. Silver, burnished silver and pretty crystal. Very pretty, I think as I hold it high and let it smash to the ground. I heard that. Saw that. Felt that, as I step onto the splintered glass, feel the tiny shards dig into my flesh, see the droplets of blood I leave in my wake. The feeling is bubbling in my chest again. It wasn't enough. I turn quickly, grabbing a handful of deep red, velvet, yanking the drapes around my bed to the floor. Better. A little better. I smile again as I reach Angelina's bed, and then Alicia's, ripping the drapes away, tossing the cushions and the covers around the room. I'm filled with an almost manic desire to break, tear, destroy. I move around the room, clutching, lunging, breaking, smashing. No sound utters from my lips, no tears from my eyes. I don't hear the noise; don't feel the pain as I stamp around on the glass and smashed ink bottles. Eventually I slump. Gasping for air as I slide down the edge of my bed. What was I thinking? Has this helped? Me? Oliver? Anyone? I survey the destruction, inhaling the metallic smell of spilt ink, intermingling with the saltiness of my own sweat and the heavy grass smell of Oliver's robes. All pervading. Oliver. What has he done to me? Tomorrow was a precipice. I could think, feel. And now there's nothing. No one. No one. Nothing. Nowhere. No one but Oliver. And I can't help him and he can't help me. We're both chained, him to a bed, me to my own, stupid, self-inflicted walls. Why can't I tear them down? Even with this manic destruction, they're still there. Still standing. Refusing to budge. Refusing to fall. Just like the tears. I sigh deeply, wanting to hold my head in my hands, to push the thoughts away, to feel emptiness once more. But my hands are creeping across the floor; my right closes on a thin stick of wood, ten inch, rosewood, one unicorn hair, slightly pliable, good for charms. My wand. And my left? My left hand closes over something small, something cold. Something tiny and insignificant. Something sharp. I lift both hands into my lap, gazing down at them as I open them. My wand, my entrance to the wizarding world, the first thing I owned that made sense to me, that I could feel, touch, and it somehow responded. And the other? A tiny piece of glass. Tiny. Insignificant. Sharp.

"_Reparo_." I whisper as I wave my wand nonchalantly around the room, watching as the drapes spring back to surround the beds, the feathers stuff themselves back into the cushions and pillows, Angelina's glass lifted, repaired, to her bedside table. The spots of ink and bloody footprints disappear with my thoughts, my feelings. Nothing. No one. Nowhere. Nothing. Alone. Alone, but for the wand, and the tiny piece of glass. Tightly caught in my hand, it's been unable to return to it's place in the mirror over my dressing table. The mirror I had broken with my own bloody palm. Now the cuts on my palm are gone, instead when I open it there's a tiny piece of glass. Tiny. Insignificant. Sharp. I shrug slightly. Could be useful. Could be handy. I rise gently, and tuck the tiny piece into my reformed pillow. Lie gently on the bed, my wand clutched to me. Nothing. Nowhere. No one. Nothing. Alone. Empty. 

That's how Hermione finds me; only my eyes are closed, feigning sleep. She leans over me, smiles slightly. Ah, but she doesn't know me at all really does she… I smile to myself as I hear her exit the room, she didn't notice the tiny chip missing from the mirror over the dressing table. Didn't notice I wasn't really asleep. Didn't really notice me at all. Invisible. Invisible to her. Invisible to him. Invisible to them all. Nothing. No one. Nowhere. Nothing. Alone. All alone. Alone to lie in peace and ponder. Why does my body feel so weightless, my mind so blank? Something akin to having drunk too much Butterbeer. But it's calm, peaceful. And I allow my mind to wander as I drift into an uneasy sleep, not wanting to dream, not wanting to be awake. Is there an uncomfortable space in between? I suppose so as I seem to have found it. Nothing. No one. Nowhere. Nothing. Alone. All alone. Invisible.

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XOX, I just read your review. And no, most of what Katie's going through hasn't happened to me, thankfully. But in different ways, I have shared her fear, her terror, her emptiness, her sadness and her panics. So yes, in that respect I understand what she's going through and I think the boundaries between make-belief and my life do blur a little. I'm enjoying writing this and I honestly don't care if I never get another review! Okay… so I'm a good liar… :p your reviews help soooooo much you wouldn't believe! Really putting a smile on my face!! This is about release though I think, releasing thoughts and feelings I wasn't sure I had, or could ever put down on paper. And also releasing a pent-up desire to write something decent! So thank you very, very much for your input. It seriously is much appreciated. And a warning, this fic is going to get sooooooooo much darker before Katie sees a chink of light over the horizon, so beware, and don't say I didn't warn you!! :p **kisses**


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